


Leave Me At The Shore

by ribbonelle



Series: Long and Mad [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Deltaran Medical Facility, Pre-Delphi, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 08:56:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4740449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ribbonelle/pseuds/ribbonelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been so long since Pharma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leave Me At The Shore

**Author's Note:**

> set in the pocket of time in between the deltaran medical facility and delphi, where ratchet is working under the prime and pharma isn’t.
> 
> a request for an anon on tumblr!; ratchet/pharma, wherein pharma is a little unhinged and bottoms from the top? 
> 
> this is mostly emotions and repetition and mediocre writing, imo, and i apologize. a writing block has hit me worse than i thought. pharma doesnt quite bottom from the top, either. in which, he does the spiking but he isn’t dominant (then again, neither of them were…really). he isn’t as unhinged as he is unstable. i have misinterpreted many things, here. but here it is anyway
> 
> *title also by pablo neruda

_“Well, now_  
_If little by little you stop loving me_  
_I shall stop loving you_  
_Little by little_  
_If suddenly you forget me_  
_Do not look for me_  
_For I shall already have forgotten you."_

_\--Pablo Neruda_

* * *

 

Their meeting had occurred by chance.

Pharma had not meant to meet Ratchet, nor had Ratchet been actively seeking out his former co-worker. They had met in public, on the sidewalk; Ratchet alone with his groceries and Pharma…not.

It had been stellar cycles. Pharma looked the way he did, stunning and sharp, even if the expression of surprise was comical on his faceplates. The mech next to him was some unknown, hulking groundframe with a matte paintjob. He didn’t look like Pharma’s type. Ratchet had no business thinking about such things, nevertheless.

“Pharma,” he said anyway, sincerely pleased to run into his old friend, “What a lovely surprise.”

The jet seemed to process his words before replying with a smirk, and Ratchet silently lamented the fact that he missed the bastard’s wit and snark. “Isn’t it? I haven’t met you in a very long time! How have you been doing?”

“I’ve been doing alright. You?”

“So and so.”

They spoke like they were nothing more than people who only knew of each other, and that didn’t sit right with Ratchet in the least. He and Pharma had been…close. Beyond close, who was he fooling? He didn’t think about it when he opened his mouth again to speak, “Perhaps its luck that made us run into each other. I’d really like to catch up with you whenever possible, Pharma. You’re with company right now, but maybe when you’re unoccupied—“

The stranger next to Pharma shifted, and Pharma’s smile softened somehow, before he turned to his friend, touching the mech’s arm. “I’m afraid I’d have to cancel our plans for today, Sharpstrike. I  _really_ haven’t met my good friend here in forever. Forgive me?”

It irked Ratchet a little that the mechanism chose to lean down and whisper into Pharma’s audial instead of speaking aloud, but Pharma simply shook his head and spoke in a low voice as well, before turning to Ratchet again, smiling.

“I’m expecting you to buy me a drink, Dr. Hotshot.”

“Certainly.”

Sharpstrike stood up straighter; he really was quite a large mech, “Have a good evening, gentlemech.”

“You too. Thank you for the opportunity.” Ratchet said graciously, remembering his manners. Sharpstrike took his leave, and Ratchet’s attention was wholly on Pharma. It had been a long, long time.

Pharma’s smile seemed especially charming, the glint in his optics was something Ratchet couldn’t place, but it was attractive in its own right, “Shall we?”

“Yes,” he shifted the bags in his hands; they suddenly didn’t feel heavy in the least, “Come on.”

Pharma turned around to walk in the same direction as Ratchet, and sidled closer; leaning in to whisper in Ratchet’s audial. The smirk in his voice was obvious, “You don’t even believe in luck.”

Ratchet laughed a little, and tilted his head to whisper to Pharma in return, “You’re right. I don’t.”

//

Nostalgia was a strong emotion. Almost overwhelming, a mass of vines creeping its way up one’s throat tubing, slowly constricting, eventually choking. But the intensity was lessened by the fact that Pharma was  _right there,_ in front of him, sitting on his couch sipping high grade, a remedy to how much Ratchet had missed his friend.

There was no one quite like Pharma.

“Hence I’ll be leaving soon,” Pharma concluded, swirling the liquid in his glass, looking fairly nonchalant, “It’s nothing as amazing as being the Prime’s go-to doctor, but it is something.”

“Getting stationed at a medical facility that truly needs help isn’t just  _something,_  Pharma,” Ratchet said, his tongue loose from the drinks they’ve had, “You’ll be making a difference. It’d be honest work. I’d trade places with you, if I could.”

Pharma seemed to take offense at the sentiment. His wings flared and he shot Ratchet a dirty look, but settled down with a huff a moment after, “Well, I’d trade places with you, too. What’s the use of all that fame if you don’t appreciate it?”

Ratchet gave him a weary smile, “You’re right, I probably don’t appreciate it as much as I should. But I hadn’t been asking for it either. You, on the other hand, would be good with fame. You’d know what to do with it.”

“I would,” Pharma agreed, pausing to take a sip of his drink, and reiterated, “I definitely would.” Pharma’s posture relaxed slightly, and Ratchet took a few seconds to remind himself how good Pharma looked by observation. He was enjoying their conversation quite a lot, even if it had taken a turn for the bitter (it happened with Pharma, Ratchet had learned to realize that); he had always loved Pharma’s wit. Ratchet had many acquaintances, both casual and regular friends, but speaking to a colleague always made him feel more comfortable.

Colleagues understood how things were sometimes, truly.

“I missed you,” said Ratchet, sincerely, “I’ve thought about you a lot. And I admit that I haven’t actually done anything about it, like contact you for some energon or whatever I could’ve come up with, but I missed you nevertheless. I’m…glad we ran into each other today.”

The words that had left him so easily suddenly felt ridiculous now, out in the open, and Ratchet had to focus really hard on some small scuffs on his left arm so he wouldn’t end up heating up like an embarrassed youngster.

He looked up to see a wide smile on Pharma’s face, and ended up flustered anyway.

“Is that so?” Pharma asked, not at all displeased anymore, his tone gone syrupy and suggestive, “I suppose I understand. There’s no one else quite like me.”

Pharma was being cocky, but Ratchet missed that particular attitude, too, “Don’t let it get to your head, but you’re not wrong. Which explains why I missed you quite a bit, Pharma. It was odd the first few weeks not working with you. I’ve gotten used to that, and in all seriousness, you’re great company.”

The look on Pharma’s faceplates was no longer self-assured. He seemed a little surprised, doubt making him frown. “You’re serious.”

“I am,” Ratchet answered the not-quite question. Pharma contemplated the reply for a while, deep in thought, but eventually looked up again to give Ratchet another smile.

“How badly did you miss me?”

The flier’s wingtips were flicking in a way that meant Pharma was being playful. He was surprised he remembered that little detail, but then again, nothing about Pharma was easily forgotten.

“Badly.” At Pharma’s quirked orbital ridge, Ratchet scoffed, “What, you want details? How demanding.”

A mistake, considering Pharma’s quick nod.

Ratchet grunted, obviously displeased, but he  _did_ say things that needed to be accounted for. Unusual words, coming from Ratchet, and now he had to take responsibility. “I miss our conversations. I miss us sharing fragged up comm. messages from the DMF’s public line. I miss leaving the DMF with you for dinner sometimes, especially to that place at the end of Ricochet Street. You remember the one?”

“They had really good cadmium truffles, with the little purple-pink gels.” Pharma said quietly, his earlier bravado gone.

“That’s the one,” Ratchet confirmed, and sighed, setting his glass down on the table before them, “I really did miss you. Didn’t you miss me at all?”

Pharma seemed taken aback, not expecting the question. “I…” he started, but caught himself and changed his tone, “Maybe. A little. Not as much as you missed me, probably.”

“I’m not so surprised by that,” Ratchet chuckled, shaking his head. Pharma would always be Pharma. There was a time when Pharma was partially soft edges and lilting words, when he’d touch Ratchet with admiration in his features, adoration in his voice. They had known each other for many years. Something happened somewhere along the line, something Ratchet couldn’t place, and Pharma hardened. Hardened so much that he no longer touched Ratchet the way he did, or spoke the way he used to. Ratchet had accepted it, all those years ago. People change, he was most aware of that.

But meeting Pharma again after so long had awakened a kind of yearning in Ratchet, a longing for the sweet, needy colleague he once knew.

Pharma’s consequent scoff seemed forced, even as he fixed Ratchet with a haughty stare, “You did  _leave,_ you know.”

He almost sounded petulant. “You’re leaving, too,” Ratchet replied, smiling at how some parts of Pharma stayed the same, “Guess that makes the two of us.”

The jet’s mouth twisted a little, “Hm. Guess it does.”

They simply looked at each other for a moment, neither saying a word, and Pharma’s features twisted even further, his expression turned into something…different. “I thought we wouldn’t see each other again for quite a while. But now you’re here, and I…”

Ratchet didn’t let him finish, “Would you touch me?”

“…Touch you?”

“Yes. Wherever. However you want.”

Pharma’s strange expression disappeared.  He grinned sharply instead and shifted in his seat, leaning closer, “Why?”

“Because I missed you.”

Pharma laughed in delight, rearing back a little like he had just been told a splendid joke. His optics flashed with that emotion Ratchet hadn’t been able to place just yet. He stood up, reached out to only brush a finger over Ratchet’s shoulder, “You’ll have to show me the berthroom; I’ve never been here before.”

“It’s there,” Ratchet pointed towards it, standing up as well, “Wasn’t really what I meant, but I’m not gonna com—“

“You don’t want me?” Pharma retracted his hand, “You don’t want this?”

It wasn’t what Ratchet meant either, and he opened his mouth to tell Pharma so, but paused when he noticed Pharma’s expression. Pharma seemed…afraid. Ratchet slowly reached for Pharma’s hand, and pulled him a little closer, “I do. I really do. I only meant that I’d have been happy enough if you just touched me, and nothing else.”

Pharma calmed down, and laced their digits together, his smirk returning, “Guess it’s your lucky day, isn’t it?”

Ratchet replied with a tug so Pharma would follow, brushing a thumb over Pharma’s knuckles once. He did want Pharma, it has been so long and Pharma meant something to him. But he didn’t expect things to be so different, now. Pharma was different. Something seemed wrong, but Ratchet couldn’t quite pin it down.

This room was much more bare than Ratchet’s previous room, the one he lived in while working at the DMF, but Pharma didn’t comment on it. He let go of Ratchet’s hand and pushed at the mech’s shoulders, towards the berth. Ratchet sat down on it, and Pharma kept pushing till he was lying on the surface altogether. Pharma climbed up after him then, straddling Ratchet’s hips.

“So you want me,” he said, still grinning, but his tone made the statement sound like a question, “Even after all this time?”

Ratchet exhaled, watching Pharma arch slightly on top of his frame, “Can’t imagine ever not wanting you, Pharma.”

“And I had assumed that everyone wanted a piece of you after your promotion, truly,” Pharma laughed, shaking his head, “Surprising!”

He had more to say but Ratchet reached up to touch his face and pulled him down gently, and Pharma went silent once their lip components met. Ratchet didn’t want to listen to Pharma’s idiosyncrasies today. It wasn’t that he hadn’t; Pharma had so much to say during their time together months before Ratchet left to work for the Prime, and he had tolerated things to a point; but he was nostalgic, now, and simply wanted Pharma in his arms. Words could wait for later.

Ratchet belatedly noticed Pharma’s shaking after he broke their kiss to press his lips to Pharma’s cheek, the mech’s jaw. He moved his head to ask Pharma what was wrong, but Pharma was apparently smiling in triumph.

“Thought you would forget all about me,” Pharma said, his voice low, “And I’d forget all about you. We went our separate ways. And you just had to come back.” Pharma stole a kiss from Ratchet’s lips, and shifted to grind his aft over Ratchet’s housing. “Funny, isn’t it? How the world works?”

“A little,” Ratchet vented, a hand on Pharma’s hip, “But this is good. It’s good that this happened, and you’re impossible to forget, anyway.”

“Flattery,” Pharma scoffed, even as his wings fluttered. He reached to rub his palm over Ratchet’s valve cover, making Ratchet hiss with the pressure, “Do you miss my spike?”

Metal plating snapped back, and Ratchet pushed his hips up for more, “Very much. Come on,” he reached for Pharma with his free hand, fingers grazing over Pharma’s face, down to his chest, “Touch me more.”

Pharma did. But something was different, it was apparent now, even as they caressed and touched and kissed, and Ratchet could see it in the way Pharma either looked at him with confidence, or avoided his gaze altogether. It was in how Pharma put his entire weight in Ratchet’s embrace, like he was too weak to hold himself up.

They came together eventually, and Pharma shook like he was going to fall apart, but Ratchet held him steady. Perhaps he always had.

“You feel the same,” Pharma said eventually, hips rolling slow, “Not even a little different. Why?”

“I don’t…know. Mm, ” Rachet gripped at Pharma’s hips harder, the continuous stimulation inside his valve making him pant, “Isn’t it good? I haven’t changed. Have you?”

Pharma ground down hard, and Ratchet’s helm dropped back, momentarily lost. “It’s good,” Pharma replied, and said nothing else. But he clutched at Ratchet soon enough, low moans escaping his throat, “—Ratchet, ngh,  _Ratchet._ I—d-don’t… please don’t—”

But the words were lost in their movement; Pharma leaning down to push his face against Ratchet’s neck, driving himself into the mech’s body. Ratchet stopped thinking, about what Pharma was going to say or what was to happen after this, nothing overcame the intensity of their coupling.

It has been so long since Pharma.

Completion was Pharma crying out something indecipherable against Ratchet’s shoulder, and Ratchet pulled him close because he was shaking even harder than before. Pharma kissed him like he’d disappear, trembling fingers holding onto his face. Ratchet let him. Pharma’s fingers around his spike were warm and perfect and for a moment, it was Pharma who held him tight. Ratchet felt warm all over, afterwards.

“I’m here,” he said; they felt like the right words to say, “I’m right here. It’s okay. I missed you, Pharma.” The flier reached for his hand, face still hidden, and Ratchet made sure to kiss the blue digits. “Contact me before you leave for Delphi?”

Pharma curled impossibly closer into Ratchet’s frame, and said nothing.

/

His alarm woke him up. He had work at 10.

Ratchet onlined his optics and Pharma was gone. The mech’s side of the berth was neat and the remnants of their drinks had been cleaned and there wasn’t a single message in Ratchet’s comm.line. There wasn’t a trace of Pharma.

Like he hadn’t even been there with Ratchet, in the first place.


End file.
